


Ginger Roger(s) Taylor?

by YogurtBattle



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, POV Multiple, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YogurtBattle/pseuds/YogurtBattle
Summary: Roger is going to pull out some moves, but not in the way he had in mind...





	1. The Party

### Chapter 1: The Party

There was something tiresome about parties like this. Sure, she liked parties well enough, but this particular one was stacked with (semi-)famous people and their entourage. It all reeked of self-importance. Wanting to be seen with the right people, at the right places. And then try very hard to convince everyone that you’re normal and down-to-earth or whatever. They rarely ever were. Why was she here? Blame her friend Aaron, the host of this party.

She liked him quite well these days. It hadn’t always been that way. When they met, Aaron had fit the stereotype, trying to get her into bed with lame pick-up lines. She bet women usually jumped into bed with him after a simple hello, so he had no reason to further develop his pick-up technique. Not that it mattered, she didn’t like one-night stands anyway. Or him. It just annoyed her when they didn’t even make an effort. Everything is better when done with style. The reason she had gotten friendly with him in the end was simply her liking his band’s music, and she got along with his band mates very well. They were also here, occupied at the other end of the room.

Aaron had convinced her to come to his party by the way of a bet. If she ended up liking it he would set her up with a blind date (that wasn’t secretly himself, her clause, as she knew he hadn’t totally let go of the idea of bedding her) and if she hated it she would pick his next date (that had to be a girl, his clause). She could rarely resist a bet or challenge, it was against her nature to do so. So here she was, and frankly, she was bored already. She could think up far better ways to spend an evening like this. Ways that might or might not be legal.

After spending some time chatting to the host, and some more time turning down all sorts of men, she decided to get herself a drink. Of course, at a party like this everyone got served, but she preferred serving herself. She didn’t care whether that was appropriate party etiquette or not. She liked it better that way as it gave her the perfect chance to do some walking about and study her fellow party-goers. They were all drinking and talking, some being more into it than others. They all seemed to know each other, and no-one knew her. That made her walk to the bar a very quick one. When she came there she briefly studied what was on offer. She didn’t drink alcohol beyond a couple glasses of wine at dinner or at a very special occasion, but she could make herself a fine mocktail. And as it happened, everything needed to make one was available here so she got going.

By the time she had fixed herself the mocktail some bloke had shown up behind her. That some bloke was Roger Taylor, Queen’s very own drummer and a known womaniser. Great, just what she needed. She had been to several concerts of Queen, as they were one of her favourite bands right now and they were all extremely talented. But that was as far as her interest in them went. Roger hadn’t been hard to recognise: blond, pretty, long-haired and with a unique taste in fashion (he was currently wearing shiny pink high tops): he stood out in any crowd, even this one. And those large blue eyes of his were definitely checking her out at the moment. “I don’t think we’ve met before,” were the first words coming out of his mouth. There was a playful sparkle in his eyes, yet there was still a politeness about him. “Oh, I am sure we have not,” she rarely ever said more than needed to strangers.

“Strange I hadn’t noticed you before… I’m Roger Taylor,” he extended his hand towards her. “Camila González Huntington. I have heard plenty about you before,” she shook his hand firmly and sent him a warm smile while doing so. He held her hand a fraction longer than politeness dictates and at this point there was no mistaking his intentions. “Heard any bad stories about me?” his tone seemed equally naughty and curious. “Plenty,” she shrugged. The dryness in her voice could easily be mistaken for seriousness, but one look in her teasing eyes told the real story. Her eyes always told the real story. Roger, who was staring rather intensely at her face, did pick up this real story and laughed. His laugh was beautiful and open, it had to be said. “Any you want to share with me?” curiosity was taking him over. “You have a reputation,” not that she was going to share what she had really heard about him. “Oh, do I?” his cocky smile showed a hint of pride. “Apparently instead of singing karaoke when drunk, you prefer doing falsettos. It left everyone around deaf for three weeks,” she teased him, still as dry as ever. She hadn’t wanted to make up anything too vulgar. Yet. “That’s the worst you’ve heard about me?” he teased her. “Or it’s the worst I’m telling you,” she left him guessing.

Conversation switched when Roger asked her what she thought of the party. Not much, she told him, and after elaborating she repeated the question to him. “I’m having a good time at the moment, yes,” he grinned at her, “But I like most parties.”. “Hmm, so I suppose I have to try harder to bore you away?” her eyes showing her signature spirited twinkle. “I pity all those bloody fools who’ve tried before me,” he mused, yet Roger showed no sign of backing down. Either way, he would at least provide an amusing night, she thought, and that was all she needed right now.  
They settled down on a sofa somewhere and soon music was picked up as a topic. It turned out they were similarly passionate about it and much time was spent comparing their tastes. The verdict was positive: while they disagreed on specifics, they had a common general taste and they enjoyed talking about their common favourite bands. While they were talking their flirting gradually intensified. Both not being people needing much personal space, they had no problem teasingly or friendly touching each other. A nudge on Roger’s arm after a cheeky joke, a hand on her wrist when they got carried away in excitement. She soon started calling him Rog, and he didn’t seem to object. Far from it, he took it as an encouragement to move even closer to her.

She had to admit to herself that, contrary to her expectations, she found herself attracted to him. Of course, his looks were far from repulsive, but what really stood out about him were his engaging mind and lively face. He was funny at times too. Roger himself seem comparably occupied by her: he barely registered his surroundings anymore, as swallowed up he was by their conversation and her appearance. The only times his eyes left her face was when he needed a drink re-fill or when some obnoxious person dared to interrupt them. He even managed to keep his eyes on her while lighting several cigarettes (which she thought to be a horrible habit but even that didn’t bother her tonight).

Just when she was warming up to the idea of going out with Roger, however, the conversation took a downturn. Having now discussed as much about music as anyone could handle over the course of one night, they had started talking about the lifestyle of rock stars. And she soon found Roger to be somewhat of a prat. His dreams were being rich and famous and have everything that went along with it. Granted, she was already rich, but having a yacht in Ibiza amongst insufferable, pseudo-trendy bigheads wasn’t high up her to-do list. She didn’t care about being rich, in fact. But she wasn’t nearly generous enough to give all her money away, so she was stuck with it. “It’s what everyone wants but won’t admit to,” he blabbed on obnoxiously. Not really. “The only thing I want is for you to get lost,” so she got up and left. She didn’t even bother to look back, what was the point of it? But, judging by the look on his face when she left, he had been completely stunned by her abrupt rejection. Abrupt, that was a word that suited her.

It seems like someone had just lost their bet.


	2. The Letter

Roger mindlessly shifted through the envelopes on his kitchen table. Bills, more bills, some boring letter from the bank… then his interest was captured by the last letter. The handwriting on the envelope was elegant and there was no company name on the envelope. He opened it and found a handwritten note inside. He flinched when he saw the name signing off the note at the end. _Her_. The girl he had been trying to get out of his bloody head the past week. The last person he had expected to write him a letter.

He lit a cigarette and then read through the note. It said:

“ _Hello Roger,_  
_This is a small note to say I am sorry for being rude to you at the party a week ago. I have no other excuse than being intense as a person, very all or nothing. Even more when the person I am talking to is a stranger to me. I do not think ill of you as a person, I was just annoyed by you at that very moment. I hope you will accept my apology.  
Hope you all the best in the future,_  
_C.A. Gonzalez Huntington_ ”

That was a little unexpected and confusing. He had no idea what prompted her to write this note. And fuck, the worst part of it was that it made him hope. Hope that maybe he still had a chance with her. No, Rog, forget it. Forget _her_. She doesn’t want you, she made that more than clear. But he couldn’t forget the lively sparkle in her eyes or the chemistry that had been obviously there. She was unlike any girl he ever met before and he had met many. There was this intriguing mix of warm liveliness and regal composure surrounding her. It confused and attracted him at the same time. He had no idea why. But she was, above all, interesting, and that had captivated him.

After spending a few minutes debating with himself, he decided _what the heck_ , life’s too short to not chase after your own happiness. It wasn’t often after all that he met a girl that left such a strong impression on him after just one meeting. Still, the thought of getting rejected again left Roger a little wary. Thinking through his options, he realised he didn’t even have any contact details of her. Nothing. A quick search on Google left him none the wiser. This was going to be even harder than he thought. Then it struck him: she hadn’t had his contact details either, so someone must have given it to her. And that someone was the person he was now going to plead with till he gave in.

“Hey mate, how’re you doing? Have you cured your hangover yet?” he heard Aaron say over the phone. “With another one. And some more,” he sighed, while running his hand through his hair, “hey, have you by any chance given my address to Camila? I received a handwritten note from her today.”. “Handwritten eh? That’s gotta mean something, mate! And yes, I did, I thought you might like it, you seemed a bit down at the party and what’s better than a gorgeous chick to cheer you up?” Roger clenched his teeth together. Down was one word to describe it. And she was the one who caused it in the first place. “Well, eh, I wanted to talk about that,” he frowned, “Do you have her phone number or something? I… want to talk to her and I don’t have it.”. “She didn’t write it on the note? Shame!” Aaron laughed, “I can’t give it to you, cuz I’m sure she’ll murder me if I do without her permission, but I can ask her to call you if you want?”.

_Of course_ , this bloody world isn’t going to make it easy for me, Roger thought. “No, thanks,” he needed a Plan B quickly, “Do you… eh… have a public mail address of her maybe? Something I can contact her on that she wouldn’t hate you for?” not his best plan, but maybe he’ll figure something out. “Yes, I think have her work mail in my contact list somewhere. Let me see… it’s v.munincksberger@gmail.com. I’m not sure if she’ll read the mail herself though,” Roger wrote down the address on the first piece of paper he found laying around his kitchen table, which turned out to be his lyric diary. “I’ll find a way to make her read it. Thanks though. I owe you one,” his mind was already on the mail he was about to write. “That’s what friends are for, right? Get me a drink in next time and tell me all about your new date and we’re fine,” “Will do. Listen, I need to write a very important mail now so I’m hanging. See ya!” after a quick bye he put off the call.

_Right_. What was he going to tell her? He needed an excuse to see her again. He needed to feel if the chemistry was still there. And if she was as beautiful as he had imprinted in his mind. He couldn’t just ask her out on a date though. No matter how he would put it, she would always say no, he was sure of that. So, what was a good excuse to meet up again? That she still had something of him? No, there was no way she was going to buy that. That he needed her advice on something? No, she would just answer via mail and he would be no step further. He needed something better. He quickly lit another cigarette.

Wait. Wasn’t she a dancer or choreographer or something? She had mentioned that during their conversation. Good, at least now he had an idea in which direction he was going. He started writing:

“ _Dear Camila,_ ” he hated being formal, and he was trying to woo her after all anyway, but he had to be careful not to be too slimy either. “ _I received your note today, thank you, it was nice to read. I must say I was surprised to see your fine handwriting lying on my kitchen table. Of course, I’ll accept your apology, although I still don’t know why you cut me off like that. I wouldn’t mind hearing you tell me face-to-face. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you out on a date. I wouldn’t dare. But I have a small problem I need your help with. You see, the girl I like is an excellent dancer and even though I have some fine moves I must admit I’m nowhere near that level. And when you’re trying to impress a gorgeous girl that won’t do. You’ve told me you’re a choreographer, so I wondered if you mind teaching me a few extra moves etc.? I’ll thank you over a drink afterwards, if you want. Thanks, Roger. PS: If your assistant is reading this, please forward it to Camila._ ” He felt really pleased with his own mail. It had turned out exactly how he wanted it to. Out of fear of chickening out if he read it over he clicked ‘send’. All that was left to do was hope for the best.

Several hours later he was trying to concentrate on the book he was reading, but his mind kept wandering off to his laptop. His thoughts went back to that cursed party. At first, he had only noticed the way her dress had shown off her perfect curves and how delicate and soft her features were. He had noted how well she dressed: sexy, but subtle. Then he observed the way she said her name. Ca-Mee-La, like a pretty flower. It suited her. Her eyes, _oh those eyes_. The way they looked at him send shivers down his spine. There was a wildness in them, a rebelliousness that he had liked immediately. Her voice dry, but soft and smooth. The way she moved was elegant, as a dancer should be. She spoke very sharply and fast, like she was always on the edge of a heated debate. But when he said something funny, she would break into a wholesome laugh that lit up the whole room. But there was something about her, a certain amused look that he couldn’t figure out. As if she was thinking a lot of thoughts she didn’t want to share with anyone. And then suddenly she was gone. It had left him feeling cold, rejected and bitterly disappointed. The only thing that was left to do was getting absolutely piss drunk and that was exactly what he did.

Suddenly, he was disrupted from his thoughts by the sound of his inbox receiving a new mail. He stirred, feeling nervous and excited at the same time, when he saw her name as the sender. He quickly opened it: “ _Dear Roger, pleased to read you liked my note and accepted my apology. I am aware of my shortcomings as a human being, so I makes me happy I did not stamp on your feet too hard. As for a face-to-face explanation, there is not much to explain apart from it being in my character. Your ‘little problem’ amused me. You must think her very special if you are willing to go out of your way to impress her. You want me to help you? Well, as it happens, I just finished my work on a new West End musical, so I have some spare time in the next weeks to teach you. Why don’t you come to tonight’s show, so we can discuss details afterwards? I will give you backstage access if you agree. You do not need to buy me a drink afterwards, I am always willing to help someone for free. Looking forward to seeing you in action! X, Camila. PS: Victoria is not my assistant, but my partner-in-crime. We only use her mail address to stop men from trying to get into contact with me via my work account._ ”

He lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. He felt a flicker of excitement inside. So, she did want to meet him now suddenly? She continued to bewilder and fascinate him. He wondered whether it was intentional and she was playing hard to get or if she was just a little strange as a person. And was she playing along or did she really believe his explanation? He didn’t know, but he was dying to find out.

A West End musical though? He hated musicals with a passion. He would never go to one out of free will. But this was also his only chance and he had already come this far… One evening wouldn’t hurt, he guessed. Who knows, it might actually be fun… Yeah, probably not Roger, stop lying to yourself. You just have to get through this bit.

When he arrived backstage at the theatre, he tried very hard to not get in the way of the production people preparing themselves for the show. He looked around but didn’t see Camila anywhere. No-one was paying him any attention and he was looking very silly, standing awkwardly around by himself. What a bloody idiot he was. He got himself a cup of water to at least have something to do. Suddenly he heard her calm voice behind him: ‘Hey Roger. I am pleased to see you.”. He turned around and there she was, as beautiful as he remembered her. “Hey!” he sounded a bit too enthusiastic for his liking. He took a deep breath. He smiled: “How is everything going with the show?”. “Fine as far as I can tell. I do not know, I am not involved in that bit. I leave the boring parts to Victoria,” a slight smile crept upon her face, “I see you already got yourself a drink, but there is more than just water available if you like.”. “You’ve got something stronger as well? Beer? Wine? I guess it should be wine in a theatre, wouldn’t it?” not that he cared about etiquette, he preferred wine anyway. He could really use a proper drink now though. “Yes. Red or white? Come, let us go somewhere else for the moment and return when the show starts,” she waved her hand to show him the way and he gladly started walking.

“Or we could just not come back at all,” he said naughtily, “And white, please.”. He wanted to see if she would take the bait. “Oh, but you would miss a wonderful show. It is good to broaden your horizon, Roger,” there was a hint of amusement in her face. “Some horizons do not need to be broadened,” he groaned. They had come into an empty office room now and Camila picked up a bottle and poured him a glass of white wine. “This should get you prepared for an evening of random songs performed to a backdrop of spontaneous synchronised choreography. And some lines in-between that everyone will have forgotten afterwards anyway,” her eyes were sparkling with amusement now. “I thought you liked musicals?” he was slightly confused. He had yet to find a way to figure out whether she was telling the truth or not. “Oh, I do. There is much wonder hidden in the utter ridicule of it all. See, it is just a matter of perspective. You can spend your whole evening moaning about how much musicals suck, or you can spend it making jokes about the whole concept while bopping along to the songs. I know which one gives you far more pleasure in the end,” there was some truth in there somewhere, fuck. In the end he followed her back to the general backstage area to find out whether she was right or not. Or just so he could shamelessly stare at her all evening.

During the show they spent the whole time whispering to each other to avoid disturbing others. Camila’s sharp, somewhat absurd sense of humour kept him entertained throughout the show and he managed to get a few jokes in himself as well. He was pleased to the point of cockiness when he saw her laugh at them. As silently as she could, of course. When the wine started to work on him, he also dared to move close to her. She didn’t mind. After some time, he even wrapped his arm around her. She just smiled at him when he did so. Having her so near him swelled his heart. Fuck, he really liked her. He could smell her probably expensive perfume from here, which was feminine and sensuous, but also light and fresh. He still wondered why she had suddenly taking a shine to him again and he decided to ask as soon as the opportunity arises. For now he just decided to enjoy the moment.

That opportunity did arise once they settled down for an after-show drink. “So, are you still up for some dancing lessons? It is very beneficial for you, you know,” she smiled. “Like what? Getting strained muscles? I thought maybe I could take you out for a nice dinner instead,” he grinned. He had lots of ideas in facts. Dinner would only be the start. “Well, it was your idea to begin with. You are not going to chicken your way out of it now. I promise it will be fun,” she paused, then added dryly, “for me at least.”. He pouted, of course it would be. He had no intention of making a bloody fool out of himself though. So he had to come clean.

“Ah, that was just an excuse you know. To see you again,” he flinched. Camila laughed: “I know. More reason to go through with it.”. “Haven’t you already tried to torture me enough by making me watch a bloody West End musical?” he groaned. “Like I told you, there are several benefits to a few dancing lessons. Some which you will thank me for later,” there was a sincerity in her voice that Roger could not ignore. He thought: “Like what?”. “Your posture could use help. Plus, your movements could have more strength,” she showed what she meant. He laughed. “And I will be there,” she smiled a wide smile and he felt his resistance crumble away. _Fuck_.

“Well maybe it wouldn’t be too bad? Only _once_. But you must tell me first why we’re here in the first place, cause I’m a little confused right now.”. “Sometimes people change their minds, do they not? And I thought your mail was sweet. Very funny. As you saw, I can be too abrupt at times. Not my best personality trait. Now may I ask why you decided to try again? Rejection is not something one likes to encounter on a frequent basis,” she explained calmly and confidently. She thought he was funny. And sweet. She didn’t know anything. He couldn’t care _less_. “Well, it was too good an opportunity to ignore. It is not often I run into a special lady like yourself,” he smiled lazily.

“You say what? With your broad circle of female acquaintances it should not be too hard to find yourself a nice girlfriend,” she narrowed her eyes, thinking about something she wouldn’t tell him about. “I’m not just looking for a nice girlfriend though. In the end we all want something deeper than that, don’t we?” a soft glance fell over his face. “Real love you mean?” the amused look was back again for a second, then it got replaced by a more neutral one, “perhaps I should practise what I preach more often.”. He had no idea what she meant with that comment. “If I’m not supposed to be single by your reasoning, why are you?” he felt that perhaps they were discussing things a bit too deeply for what wasn’t even their first date yet. “I do not consider myself relationship material. At least, every attempt I made failed miserably. And always because of me,” he appreciated her honesty, but was left guessing why. “You are warned, so to speak,” she raised one eyebrow. “It’s not like I don’t have a reputation either,” they both laughed.

After a little more time had passed Camila announced that she was going. He protested and wondered what she had to do that was more important. “Nothing,” was the only answer he got. She kissed him on the cheek and then left. He realised there was a long way to go before he would really understand her. But he felt it was worth it.


	3. Step One

Today was her meeting with Roger. She was looking forward to it and not just because she was going to have fun trying to teach him some dance basics. She was looking forward to seeing him. Roger. She liked him. But she wasn’t telling him that yet. After all, she wasn’t going to rob herself of this golden opportunity. And if it never led anywhere, she would at least be left with some positive memories.

She quickly picked out some exercise-friendly clothes out of her closet. Shorts, of course. She never wore anything below the knee if she could help it. She combined it with her favourite yellow off-shoulder shirt. She ran her hands through her hair and loosely braided it. A headband in her hair to keep the loose strings of hair out of her face. She then walked out of her bedroom into the living room where her postman bag was waiting for her. On days like these it was her best friend. She tossed it over her shoulder and walked to the front door. On the way out she picked up her stylish black leather jacket and found a dark pair of trainers that suited her look. Off she went to the dance studio where she would be spending the next few hours.

She arrived early as usual. This gave her the perfect chance to rearrange the space a little to her liking and do some warming-up before Roger arrived so at least one of them would be ready to go. Roger arrived fifteen minutes later, which was exactly five minutes too late. He blamed it on the traffic, of course, but more likely all the time had gone to fixing his hair. He run his hair through it and apologised, then smiled the brightest smile anyone could possible smile. “You can change over there if you want,” she pointed to the changing room down the hall “or here. Your choice.”. He gave her a puzzled look. “Well, you do not think you were going to get sweaty in those clothes, did you? You do not wear that in concert either,” she mused. He was wearing a simple pair of jeans, which looked amazing on him, she noticed, and a tight white button-up shirt, of which he had left the top button open. “I thought we were gonna take this lightly,” he moaned, “I don’t have anything else with me… Well I could always dance shirtless, if you want.”. He smiled mischievously at her. She shrugged: “Fine by me. Let me find you a nice pair of trousers that are better suited for working out.”. She left to see what was still lying around somewhere.

When she came back Roger hadn’t taking off a single piece of clothing yet. He was determined to make a bit of a show of it. He had to do something considering how he compared to the dancers Camila was used to, in the muscle department at least. But first, he wanted to find out it whatever she was going to make him wear didn’t look or smell disgusting. He wasn’t going to degrade himself like that. She gave him a pair of simple black track suit trousers that looked and smelled clean to him. But he still wanted to double-check. “Are you sure these are clean?” he demonstratively held up the trousers. “Sure,” when that answer didn’t satisfy him, she added: “There is always something extra laying around or did you think we never forget anything?”. Roger realised there was nothing left to do but changing his clothes. He tried to take of his shirt slowly and seductively, but, to his annoyance, the middle button has decided otherwise. “ _Fuck_ ,” he proclaimed as the button came loose and fell onto the floor. He picked it up and threw it away in the distance as he looked like a complete idiot: “stupid fucking button.”.

He had no patience left with the shirt and pull it off as quickly as he could, throwing it away as angrily as he could when he finally had gotten himself out of it. From the back of his eye he noticed Camila looking amused. “What?” he growled. “It is not every day that I see a guy making war with his shirt. I think I have the right to enjoy it,” she chuckled. She looked so beautiful when she smiled that Roger forgot about being angry and smiled back. “I suppose so. Do you have have a shirt after all?” he felt a little exposed now, to be honest, and he didn’t think he was going to handle it for another minute. Let alone for however long this was going to take. She smilingly handed him a shirt she had with her all along. “There you go,” it was an equally black, plain tee. He put it on and noticed it was about two sizes too large for him. “You don’t have anything smaller?” he watched himself in the mirror wall and thought he looked complete ridiculous. “Not unless you want to try the women’s section,” she took a sip of her water. “No, I think I’m fine,” he quickly changed in and out of the trousers. “I’m ready,” he exclaimed. “What are you waiting for then?” she hopped around the studio and clapped her hands. “Time to warm-up!” she said with the most excitement he heard in her voice up until this point.

Warming-up was a drag and he was sure he had felt some damned muscles he had never felt before. He already hated how sore he was going to be in the morning. But on the plus side, she hadn’t held back herself and he had gotten some rather pleasant views of certain parts of her body. Her extremely well-shaped bottom, mostly. _God, that was one fine arse_. She was rather curvy, he had noticed. Especially for a dancer. This kind of dancer anyway, he had seen some others… Anyway, most of his thoughts had not been on the warming-up itself, so he had forgotten by now if Camila had said anything important. She looked satisfied with the proceedings however, so he just smiled to himself, congratulating himself on making it through this bit.

Even though she had already noticed how useless he was at exercising throughout their warming-up, she was impressed with him. He hadn’t pulled out of anything she had asked him to do, even if he did not look particularly excited by the prospect of doing it. Her ideas for the dancing lesson were simple: assuming sense of rhythm wouldn’t be a problem, she had decided to teach him salsa dancing. As far as dances go, salsa wasn’t the most difficult to learn for beginners, except that he probably wouldn’t have very loose hips. Oh well, how many white guys did? She had to admit to cringing whenever she saw the standard of ‘dancing’ in any club over here. If that made her a horrible snob, then so be it. This place was in desperate need of a little dancing culture.

“Okay, Rog, if you are ready we will get going,” she energetically sprang up. Roger got up with a little less enthusiasm. “Okay, just stand over here, okay?” she indicated with her arms where he was supposed to stand. When he had taken himself over to the spot, she started to adjust his posture. “Stand straight. Slouching looks bad on the dance floor. Or anywhere else,” she ran her hands over his shoulders until she had him in the position she wanted him to be. Almost immediately after she let loose of him he went back to his previous stance. “You are not going to get away with playing games, Mr Taylor,” she gave him a challenging, but amused look. “I wasn’t! I just ehm… forgot myself. Could you please show me again?” he looked at her in the most innocent way possible. “Once and that is it,” if he was going to be the naughty student then she had to be the strict teacher. Oh, that sounded wrong. Or very right.

“Now, head back. I am not so small you have to look down to me while bending your head,” she was suddenly hit with a brilliant idea. “Wait a second,” she hurried over to her bag and find something in there that was very useful: her Latin dancing heels. She had always packed them in her dancing bag, so that wherever she went she could put them on in case she needed it. Or felt like it. She was what you called crazy-prepared. Unlike Roger, who seemed mostly not-prepared. She quickly dumped her trainers into her bag and put on the heels. The heels weren’t high (because you don’t want to twist your ankle during dancing) but high enough to make her look that little bit closer to Roger’s face. And it made her look sexier as well, that wasn’t a drawback either. It wasn’t that Roger was that much taller then her, 10 centimetres maybe (yes, she calculated in centimetres. She was European after all), so they looked really good together as a dancing couple.

She stood right in front of him. “Now grab my right hand,” he took her hand in his, “Not like that, higher. And like you are trying to lead someone, not like you are trying to make sure you do not get sweaty hands.”. His second attempt was just as bad as he was trying to pull her a bit closer than appropriate. She stepped back. “Still not good?” he sighed. She gestured with her arms exactly how much space there was supposed to be between them. “What if we forget about the rules and just do what we want?” he held up his hands like he had just come up with the best plan ever. “Unless you are an experienced dancer, which you are not, that will only end with you or me in the hospital. Preferably you,” she raised one eyebrow she waved to indicated they should get back to work. “It will get more fun if you for once decided to do as you are told,” she patted him on the arm teasingly. He stuck out his tongue towards her and laughed cheekily. 

“Okay, so now you have your left hand in the right place, you need to place your right hand on my back. Not my arse, thanks. That territory is off-limits,” she was surprised to find him actually obliging. Perhaps he was not too enthusiastic about having her heels stamp on his feet. If only he knew the real punishment. “Now relax. I am going to walk you through a few steps and whatever you do, do not look like you are thinking about what you are doing. Just go with the flow and do not step on my feet,” she smiled devilishly. “I thought I was supposed to not go with the flow?” he scratched his head in confusion. “Do you remember that time when a teacher told you to experiment but not to ‘experiment’?” he looked guilty, “I thought so.”.

While his first attempts weren’t exactly stellar, he soon felt he was getting the hang of it and that was when it started to become a little more fun. Camila still reminded him every five seconds or so of his posture in that admittedly very sexy strict tone of hers, but things were starting to become a bit looser between them. He was feeling rather confident about his charm, so he dared to make her turn. That made her raise her hands in amazement at how bad his technique actually was, but she laughed nonetheless. She then stopped and told him their dancing could use a little music. Finally.

The music she chose was in Spanish, _of course_ , and even though this wasn’t his kind of music, he had to admit it was perfect for dancing. He just wondered by himself what the dude was singing about. Love? Sex? Making a cup of tea? He had no clue since he never paid much attention during his French classes and those were almost a decade ago. He decided to not give a damn. He quickly grabbed Camila close again, _but not too close_ , and tried to pick up the rhythm of the music. That wasn’t very hard for him, even more because it was just a 4/4 rhythm. He looked at her. Camila had a very intense way of looking him in the eyes and that made it very hard for him to look away. So, he didn’t. He just looked in her beautiful wild eyes and smiled. 

In a wild moment he decided that now was a good moment to try and lift her. At least for once he managed to surprise her. Unfortunately, it ended with him falling on top of her in a for her not very comfortable position. And his head between her boobs. _Fuck_. Not a good thing to think about right now, Roger. When he realised what happened he quickly tried to mumble an apology or two and get off her. “When I said we could end up in hospital that was not an invitation to try,” she gave him a pointed look. “I eh… overestimated myself a little?” he pulled a what-have-I-done face. She sighed and shrugged: “Oh well, I saw it coming. Well not that. Please don’t try it again as I really do not like hospitals.”. To his relieve she smiled went he helped her get up again. “It won’t happen again! I promise!” or at least not in the next fifteen minutes, he thought by himself.

She still had no idea what he had done. One minute they were just dancing, another they were lying awkwardly on top of each other on the floor. It did hurt. Not much, but still. Despite the pain she was pretty amused. Never before had a guy swept her literally off her feet. Bonus points for the effort. As a sign of ‘forgiveness’ she pulled out two slices of cake and offered him one. “What is it?” he looked somewhat wary of the cake. “Purple carrot cake. That might not sound very appealing, but I promise you it is actually delicious,” she couldn’t be more excited about her homemade cake herself, so she immediately started eating it. Roger tentatively put one piece in his mouth. A surprised look covered his face: “This is actually really good!”. He happily ate another piece. “Are you so surprised because you doubted the concept of purple carrot cake or because you had no faith in my baking skills?” she teased him. “You made this yourself?” he looked at the crumbles of the cake still in his hands. “Last time I checked I did. I do not have a kitchen for nothing,” she wiped the crumbles of her hands. “I do!” he grinned, “But you are really good. Remind me to have you make my birthday cake.”. “I am not sure if that is such a good idea. Who knows what I might put into it,” they laughed. “I’m all worried now!” he jested and looked straight into her eyes.

Dancing time was over for today and Roger gladly changed into his own trousers again. “Ehm… what I am supposed to do about the shirt. I can’t wear that one, it’s ruined,” he moped. “You could just wear your jacket with nothing underneath. If you properly close it, no-one will know the difference,” she handed him his dark jacket and he put it on. “I guess this has to do then,” he smiled a bit awkwardly. “Do you mind if I lit a cigarette now? I know these places have a bloody no smoking policy, but I’m really in need of one,” he groaned. “I will not play tattle-tale if that is what you are worried about. And since there is no-one here but me, I say go ahead,” he did not need to hear that twice as he quickly grabbed his pack of cigarettes from his trousers.

“So where are we gonna go next?” he asked while lighting his cigarette. “I have no idea where you are going next, but am I going to watch a film,” she picked up her bag at put it over her shoulder, then took her bottle of water out and sipped from it. “Ah, so you already have plans?” he sounded disappointed. “Since ten seconds ago, yes. You want to join? It is going to be one of those terrific Ginger Rogers/Fred Astaire films. Victoria is coming too,” she looked at her phone as she had just received a reply from Vic. “I think I pass on this one. Shame, I thought we were having a good time,” he shrugged semi-nonchalantly. “We were. But we could always continue it another time. What about meeting up at a salsa club in two days? Or three, whatever suits you,” she walked backwards to the door while talking to Roger. Roger seemed to hesitate for a moment, then said: “If you’re not worried about me tumbling you over again, that would be great. But only if get to treat you to a drink afterwards.”. He leaned against the wall.

“Oh, better yet, I enter us in a contest! You might treat me to a drink for every couple we manage to beat!” she lit up by the thoughts of her grand scheme. “I never said I was willing to compete in front of a crowd,” he looked unnerved by the thought. “Ah, you only have to make me look good. Which should not be hard because I am good. And you impressed me today for an absolute beginner. It must be those drummer genes,” she was in full flirting mode right now. It paid off, after a few more nudges he agreed to dance with her in a contest. Little did he know that she had just set up this contest herself and now she had to find other willing participants… But, she thought, this was going to be absolutely fantastic. She knew Ginger and Fred would gave her inspiration, they always did.


	4. Hot Space (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie is making an appearance this chapter! Hope you'll enjoy it.

Earlier this day Freddie has called him up very bored with the suggestion, or more the insistence, he would come over and play Scrabble. So here he was, drinking tea (for now) and playing Scrabble. He was on his way to lose the first game unless he could cash in somewhere soon, so much he had gathered. Freddie was annoying him with questions about what he had done lately and if he had some interesting gossip for him. Annoying, because Roger knew he would end up spilling everything.

“Oh, Rog, you’re not going to tell _me_ you haven’t done anything interesting in a week!” Freddie exclaimed. “It was just one of those weeks were things kinda went on,” he was trying to hide a smile but failing. “Hush, darling, I’m not asking you to tell me everything, just anything interesting! I know you want to,” Freddie knew he was winning. In more ways than one. “Alright, alright! I can never hide anything from you, can I?” Roger threw his hands up in ‘defeat’. "You mean you can hide things from other people?” Freddie gave him an amused look and took another sip from the tea. “I guess it’s time for something stronger?” it wasn’t a question.

Roger looked at the board annoyed that Freddie has just placed a word where he wanted to and now he couldn’t do his brilliant word idea. Which was SEXY. Of course it was. “So, when were you planning to tell me about this special girl?” Roger looked at him surprised. “How did you know…?” Roger forgot about the new word he had come up with. “What else could it be, dear? You never have any trouble telling me about your wild nights out. What does she look like? More Liz Taylor or more Grace Kelly? Spill!” he looked at Roger with an undying curiosity. Freddie clapped in his hands and answered his own question before Roger could say anything: “I know! I know! The latter isn’t it? Slim and pretty like your previous girlfriends.”. Freddie looked satisfied with his own answer. Roger smiled at the thought of her. “Mmm, more the former actually. But taller… definitely taller. And ehm, Spanish. Or some Spanish-speaking country, I haven’t asked her which,” he realised Freddie had broken his restraint, but felt the alcohol working on him already.

“Excellent. Spanish, huh? You know what they say about those women… but I’m more than happy to let you find out for yourself. So, what is it that is so special about her? Pretty girls enough in the world after all,” Freddie slightly raised his eyebrows. “Well, she has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. And she’s interesting. Very interesting. An excellent dancer as well,” Roger probably could go on for hours describing all the things he liked about her. “What sort of dancing are we talking about here,” Freddie said while keeping his eyes on his letters. “Not the kind your thinking of!” they both laughed. “She’s very intelligent too,” Roger managed to form the word WRY, which was pretty good for three letters. “Roger, intelligent people are just complicated. Look at Brian!” Freddie gestured as if Brian was sitting next to him. “I don’t mean like Brian! More like, me or something,” he deduced that he was in fact going to win this game, so he smiled cockily. “Not very much at all then,” Freddie smiled back, but still had to hand over the game to Roger. Roger saw a glimpse of annoyance. Truthfully, by their standards, today’s games were very friendly. It was just waiting for someone to lay down a word that the other considered invalid and then all hell would break loose.

“So, have you charmed this lady off her feet yet?” by Freddie’s standards, this should be considered unusually polite, which worried Roger. “It’s a work in progress,” that made Freddie smirk. “Does she actually like you?” Roger say the glint in Freddie’s eyes hoping she didn’t. “She does! There’s nothing wrong with a little patience, Freddie,” Roger says defensively. “Please! Your ‘patience’ is that you’re a coward. Tell her your feelings already or it’ll never happen,” Freddie waved his hand then casually took a sip of his drink. Roger leaned back: "First I need to ask her out. I’m not gonna confess my feelings before we’ve even gone on a date!". Freddie seemed pleased he at least admitted to having feelings for her now. "You haven't even asked her out yet?!" exclaimed a surprised Freddie. "I tried, but the universe was against me," Roger smirked. "You mean she turned you down," there was a hint of smugness in Freddie's voice that Roger didn’t like. “It’s all part of my grand scheme to win her over,” Roger replied defensively. He lit another cigarette and glanced across the room. “Your grand scheme seems to consist of doing absolutely nothing, dear. I expected a little more assertiveness from you,” it sounded accusing. “I’ll ask her out when I see her tomorrow,” he couldn’t hide his slight annoyance, as much at Freddie’s words as at his own failure up till now. “Good,” was the only reply he got.


	5. Hot Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually part 2 of Chapter Four, and the last chapter of this fic. I'll soon be back with more!

When Roger got to the bar it was quite busy inside, so it took him a minute to find her. She was standing on the opposite side of the room talking to an ordinary looking blonde girl. She was wearing a yellow mini-skirt and tights underneath and he liked the boldness of it. He greeted her and her friend. “Hey Rog, you are right on time! This is my esteemed colleague Victoria,” Camila put her hand on the shoulder of the blonde girl, who Roger realised was the one he sent _that_ email to earlier. He hadn’t expected her here and felt slightly judged. “Nice to meet ya Victoria,” he shook her already extended hand, “I’m Roger. Eh… I’m Camila’s date for the evening.”. “Ah, yes, Cami told me about you! I’ll be your competition for the evening. At least, one of. Which, I guess, means I’ll have to leave now,” Victoria was an over-excited kid when she talked, which amused Roger. At least for now, he’d probably get tired of it if he had to listen to it all evening.

When she had left he turned to Camila, or ‘Cami’ as Victoria had called her. “So, what have you been saying about me? Only good things I hope?” he gave her a teasing smile. “Depends on what you see as good,” she playfully touched his arm and licked her lips, “I did tell her you were the one who was stalking me per mail.”. “Oh, yeah. I’m surprised you haven’t called the cops on me yet. I’m _very_ dangerous,” he grinned. “As long as you are not a danger for our fellow competitors,” she took a sip from her drink, but her eyes remained on him. “Okay, what exactly are we going to do?” he ran his left hand through his hair, waiting for her to explain how this competition actually worked.

She explained to him that they would just have to dance and then the jury would pick out the best ones and rank them. Pretty simple, right? She had, however, called together many of the best dancers she knew around here, so she was sure they were not going to win anything. But she liked a little challenge. Or, little, she was more of the ‘why making it simple if you can make it hard’ variety. She wasn’t sure Roger would like this very much though. “Let me put it this way: many people here are friends of mine. That was my best chance of making sure there would be enough competitors in the first place,” she was pretty pleased with the turn-out. “It’s a nice place, by the looks of it. Do you have any special drinks recommendations?” he stared at the drinks menu, trying to decide whatever he was going to have before the competition would start. “You better ask someone else, I do not drink any of it. Unless you want wine, then yes, I will be able to recommend you something,” she flipped through the drinks menu that she found laying around. “You don’t drink at all? That is… interesting,” he struggled to find the last word he wanted. “Just the occasional wine, that is all. And that is certainly not going to improve my dancing,” she playfully smacked him on the head with the drinks menu, for no other reason then that she felt like it. He smiled and took the menu off her.

He had a very wonderful smile. Or smiles, as she noted he had a big palette of expressions just waiting to be used. It made his already beautiful face even more beautiful and she had to admit it made her feel things inside. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. He looked very handsome today, with his unique sense of style shining through. “You look very nice today, Rog,” she said to him as he came back with a drink in his hand. “Thanks!... You always do,” an initially surprised look quickly changed into a flirtier expression. Soon their conversation got interrupted by the start of the competition. While they got ready, she noticed that though he didn’t want to let it on, he was clearly nervous about it all. “Hey, we are going to have a blast and while we are at it, we might even manage to beat a few!” she enthusiastically whispered into his ears. “Those losers have nothing on us,” he smirked. “Do not get too cocky, mister!” It was time to start dancing.

He was very aware of her standing so close to him. Oh, how beautiful she was. He wondered if he would even manage to remember one step, let alone the whole routine. And he didn’t have nearly enough to drink, so he was feeling the nerves creeping up as well. _Fuck_ , he wasn’t supposed to care about this, but now he was standing here, he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He suddenly noticed how Camila was tenderly smiling at him, the most tender she had ever looked up until this point. He suddenly felt more relaxed and couldn’t help himself but to smile back. Then he heard the music bursting through the sound system. He counted, as he had done so many times before during a Queen show. _Now_.

_That was it_. The final steps. He was done. He has absolutely no idea what the hell he had just done and whether or not it looked even remotely good, but there was nothing to be done about it now. God, he needed a cigarette now. “You see? I told you we would wipe out the competition?” he couldn’t leave it. She laughed: “Thanks to you I had to improvise the whole second part of the routine or we would have crashed into something.”. Ah, it didn’t went so well then. She must have seen his face, because she quickly added: “You did great though! As good as can be expected with so little experience. Or none, really.”. She hugged him quickly, in a friendly way. He felt her warm body against him. This was his chance.

As soon as her face was in front of him, he kissed her. Maybe a bit more passionately then he wanted to. She kissed him back, funnily enough not at all surprised by his actions, as if she had expected it. She probably had. Their lips slowly parted and he started to taste her. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist while she ran her hands through his long hair. Just then she let go of him, leaving him aching after her soft lips.

She had to admit he was a great kisser. Although, with his level of experience he ought to be. Yet she was adamant about ending their kiss here and now. Not because she didn’t like it, or because it wasn’t meant to happen, no, because she needed to keep her walls somewhat up. She was after all a control freak who liked to keep strangers at arm-length. Not that after that kiss he was still much of a stranger. She give him a quick kiss on the lips before she let go of him. He looked confused, mixed with more than a hint of pleasure. “That was…” Great? Sexy? “exciting! Do that again another time, if you want to,” she smiled brightly. He waved his hands around awkwardly. “I have no idea what’s going on in your head half the time, but does that mean our first date is on?” he still looked confused, but eagerness was slowly taking over his face. “What made you think this wasn’t our first date?” she couldn’t help but look amused. “Eh…” he looked around, then faced her again, “I suppose?”. A certain sparkle took over his eyes. “You!...,” he said in a mock angry tone. The both laughed.

They later ran into Vicky again, who complemented Roger on doing well for his first time, and together with Vicky’s dance partner, they awaited the results. Neither of them ended up taking top spot, not that she had expected Roger and her to do so, but Vicky ended in a respectable third place. Roger, predictably, was a bit smug when they found out they had actually left two couples behind. He did however admit that was mostly due to her performance and, so he said, because no male jury member would ever put _her_ in last place. Content, and having had a great night, they then all went home. She parted with Roger with the knowledge that their first real date would be in a few days, a moment she was already looking forward to. She ended up falling asleep with Roger still in her head, soaring over the dance floor dressed as Ginger Rogers. Ginger Rogers Taylor indeed, she smiled…


End file.
